


To: Someone Special

by DeansHotDogPajamas



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: A tiny bit of hurt/comfort if you squint, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Christmas Lingerie, Christmas Smut, Cockles, Cockles Cooperative Advent Calendar Challenge, Domestic Cockles, Fluff and Smut, Jensen Ackles in Lingerie, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, My first Cockles, Riding, Rimming, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Misha Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansHotDogPajamas/pseuds/DeansHotDogPajamas
Summary: Jensen and Misha enjoy a December evening alone at Jensen's apartment in Vancouver, each wearing a Christmas gift from the other's wife. The holidays really are magical.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 10
Kudos: 100
Collections: Cockles Advent Calendar Challenge





	To: Someone Special

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first finished Cockles fic! This is part of the Cockles Co-op's Advent Calendar Challenge 2019, and I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but I'm really excited about it. I compare this fic to a snickerdoodle: a little sugar, a little spice (and yes, the title is a reference to Elf). 
> 
> Not beta'd, so any mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

Jensen glances in the direction of his apartment door for the twentieth time in the last five minutes. Misha should've been here by now. He sighs, impatient, and paces to the kitchen to grab a beer. Tossing the cap in the sink on his way back to the living room, he tilts the bottle against his lips and drains nearly a third of it in one go. He's not nervous, he's just... okay, maybe he's a little nervous.

He picks at the label on his beer and resolutely _does not_ look at the door again, instead walking over to the tall windows on the west side of the room to gaze out over downtown Vancouver. It's not that late, but being this far north, the sun went down several hours ago; that's one thing he won't miss about filming in Canada. That, and the cold.

What he will miss are nights like this. Well, nights like the one he'll have once Misha actually gets here. Maybe he should call him. He takes another swig of beer and pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his recent calls to pull up Misha's contact. He smiles at the picture, a candid Gen had taken during their "Christmas in November" party at the end of last month.

Danneel came up with the idea for the party a few years ago, and it's become one of Jensen's favorite holiday traditions. Christmas is hectic enough with family obligations that Jensen, Jared, and Misha never have time to bring their families together to celebrate, so they do it over Thanksgiving weekend instead. They bake cookies, watch Christmas movies, and exchange gifts a month early. Of course, November in Texas can be unpredictable; this year, it was over 70 degrees outside. Misha wore his ugly Christmas sweater for about fifteen minutes before Jensen dragged him upstairs to find him a shirt that wouldn't give him heatstroke... Jared, little shit that he is, made a sly remark about how _interesting_ it was that Misha came back downstairs looking even _more_ flushed than before, and Misha had ducked his head into Jensen's neck in a fit of embarrassed giggles. Gen had snapped the photo because they were being "too fucking adorable," and though he's been given plenty of shit for it, it has quickly become one of his favorite photos of them.

The sound of shuffling in the hallway and a set of keys jingling has Jensen hurrying across the room to get the door before Misha has to juggle what he's carrying. When he pulls the door open, he's assaulted by the sight of Misha's broad shoulders and thick arms in that fantastic red jacket. _Damn him._ Misha is grinning, a bag of groceries balanced on his hip and a hint of mischief in his gorgeous blue eyes. The fucker knows exactly what he's doing. "Hey handsome," he says smugly as he brushes past Jensen into the apartment and heads to the kitchen to set down their food.

Jensen swings the door shut, then follows Misha into the kitchen and fits his hands to his hips. "Hey, yourself." He nuzzles his nose behind Misha's ear, dropping soft kisses across his neck in an effort to distract him from unpacking the groceries.

Misha squirms and tries to get away, playfully whacking Jensen in the head with the scallions he's just pulled out of the bag. "Knock it off, Jen. We have all night; you can attack me after we eat."

"You're the one who walked in here in that jacket," Jensen counters, but he relents and turns to the fridge to get himself a fresh beer. "Want one?" Jensen asks, cracking open the bottle and holding it out as he tosses the cap into the sink with his other hand.

Misha rolls his eyes and takes the offered beer. "I don't know what's so hard about throwing your caps in the trash."

"Nothing, I just like annoying you," Jensen responds with a cheeky grin. This time, when he tries to throw the cap in the sink, Misha smacks it out of the air to land by his feet, his eyebrows raised in challenge. Jensen just laughs and bends to pick up the cap, but he freezes when he catches sight of Misha's belt buckle. "What the... is that-"

"Mistletoe," Misha replies, that glint back in his eye. The implication is clearly not lost on him, and Jensen's mouth goes dry.

"You bought a fucking _mistletoe_ belt buckle?"

"Actually, it was a Christmas present from Danneel."

Jensen's eyes go wide, and he feels a blush on his cheeks. His wife bought his boyfriend a present that strongly implies Jensen's gonna suck his dick. That's... well, okay, that's pretty hot. Of course, then Jensen's thoughts are pulled to the present Vicki got for _him_ this year, and his blush deepens. There's a moment, as he retrieves the bottle cap and Misha watches, that he considers dropping the rest of the way to his knees and just getting things kicked off right then; instead, he straightens and turns to throw the cap in the garbage. Behind him, he hears Misha let out a breath and resume unpacking the groceries.

Dinner is good, some pasta dish that sounds strange but ends up delicious, and Jensen's not even sure why he worries anymore. The man wrote a cookbook, for god's sake. Sure, there were some truly horrific culinary incidents in the past, but Misha is familiar enough with his palate now that he does a good job stretching his comfort zone just a little at a time.

When their plates are clean, they clear the table and head to the living room. They've made the mistake before of letting things get too heated immediately after a large meal, so now they've adopted the same policy they use with the kids and the swimming pool: wait 30 minutes after eating. As annoying as it is sometimes when all they want to do is tear each other's clothes off, it's nice to have time set aside for the sappy domesticity they not-so-secretly love just as much as the sex.

Jensen pours himself a few fingers of whiskey and mixes Misha a gin and tonic while Misha turns on a Brooklyn Nine-Nine rerun, keeping the volume low. They press themselves together on the couch and entwine socked feet at the ankles and enjoy each other's presence. They talk about work, about the way they feel the season is going and how the crew is holding up the closer they get to Christmas break. They talk about family, about Maison's latest existential crisis (he'll never understand how a seven-year-old's mind can work the way hers does) and about Gen and Danneel taking the kids around Austin to see Christmas lights. They cuddle and sip their drinks and space out to the quiet voices on the tv. Jensen almost forgets the slow churning of nerves deep in his gut.

When the episode ends, Misha extricates himself from the curl of Jensen's arm, taking his empty tumbler to the kitchen. Jensen swallows the remainder of his whiskey and sets the glass on the coffee table. He considers getting more, but decides against it.

Misha is looking around the apartment curiously as he comes back to the couch. "I just noticed you haven't put up any Christmas decorations in here," he says, setting a knee into the couch beside Jensen and gingerly swinging his other leg over to settle in his lap.

Jensen lifts a hand to Misha's face and smooths over his brow where it's wrinkled in discomfort. "Baby, you shouldn't sit like this if it hurts your hips."

"I'm fine," Misha pouts. Jensen just rolls his eyes. Misha does what Misha wants, despite that attitude being what got his hips fucked up in the first place. At least he's having surgery over break; soon, they won't have to be quite so careful. "Anyway, as I was saying," Misha continues, "Why haven't you put anything up? Your house looks like Christmas fucking exploded in it, yet here you don't have so much as a strand of lights."

Jensen's mouth quirks up in a sly smile. "Are you accusing me of having no Christmas spirit?" he asks. His hands skim down Misha's sides to his hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles above the waistband of his jeans.

Misha grins back, not quite sure where this is going, but clearly getting the gist. "I mean, the phrase 'Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal' does come to mind." His fingers skim through the hair at the base of Jensen's neck, and Jensen leans back into it.

"Aw, if I was really such a Grinch, would I have planned a special holiday surprise for you?"

Misha's eyes go wide, undisguised interest on his features. Jensen's hands slip from Misha's hips inwards, and he curls his fingers over the top of his belt buckle and tugs. A breathless, barely-there chuckle escapes Misha's lips as he sways forward into Jensen's space, and then they're kissing. Misha presses into him from above, controlling the angle with a hand on the back of Jensen's neck and easing his lips apart. The barest hint of tongue swipes across his top lip, and Jensen wants more. He nips at Misha's lips, pressing forwards with his tongue before Misha knows what hit him, and his hands fit themselves to Misha's thighs so he can swipe his thumbs firmly over the already-growing bulge in his jeans.

Jensen feels the flex of Misha's thighs across his lap, and then his tongue returns in earnest, surging hotly into Jensen's mouth. Large, warm hands drag down Jensen's chest to the hem of his shirt, pushing it upwards to get to the smooth skin underneath. Their lips part just long enough to get the shirt over Jensen's head, then they crash back together. Jensen grabs Misha's ass with both hands, trying to pull him closer, but Misha lets out a gasp against his lips and tenses.

"Shit, Mish, did I hurt you?" Jensen asks, a hand moving to Misha's face, stroking soothingly over his cheekbone.

Misha shakes his head, covering Jensen's hand with his own. "It's okay; my fault." He removes Jensen's hand from his cheek and kisses his knuckles. His expression turns heated again, trying to get things back on track. He leans in close to Jensen's ear, skimming a hand teasingly up and down his side. "We should move this to the bed anyway," he purrs.

Jensen can't stop the tiny shudder that runs through him, and he nods enthusiastically, kissing Misha once more before helping him off his lap. "Give me about five minutes?"

"Is this for the surprise?"

"Yep. Five minutes, okay? And, uh- keep the belt buckle on." Jensen's blushing furiously, but he plays it off with a cheeky wink. He starts to head towards the bedroom, but then Misha is tugging Jensen in for another kiss, this one soft but full of love and longing.

After a moment, Misha breaks the kiss; he turns Jensen abruptly towards the bedroom door, smacking his ass to get him moving. "Alright, Ackles, clock's ticking." Jensen laughs and rolls his eyes, shutting the door behind him.

By the time his five minutes are up, the tension in Jensen's chest has ratcheted up to eleven. _I can do this_ , he tells himself as he tries to calm his breathing. Even if he didn't already suspect Misha would like this surprise, the fact that the gift came from Vicki should reassure him. She's been with Misha since they were teenagers; she knows all his likes and kinks, and she seemed really sure he'd be into it. Then again, she does have a mischievous streak... what if she gave him this just to fuck with them? Oh, god... Jensen's going to die. He's sure of it. He's going to die of embarrassment before he ever makes it out of his bathroom.

A knock on the bedroom door nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

"Jensen? You okay in there, love?"

 _Fuck._ He supposes he's as ready as he'll ever be. He takes one last look in the bathroom mirror, grumbling under his breath about _the things I do for love_ and walks through the softly lit bedroom to pull open the door.

He hears Misha's sharp intake of breath, but he can't bring himself to look him in the eye. Instead, he drinks in the sight of Misha's body, now minus a shirt and socks but still in tight jeans that ride low on his hips despite the belt with the stupid, shouldn't-be-hot-but-really-is mistletoe belt buckle.

"Holy _fuck_ , Jen," Misha breathes, frozen to the spot and sounding half-wrecked already. Jensen feels his face grow even hotter than before, and he's sure he's as red as the sheer babydoll negligee he's wearing.

"This is, uh... Vicki thought you'd, um... Merry Christmas," he huffs out lamely, gaze resolutely on Misha's feet. Misha still hasn't moved. Jensen shifts his weight anxiously and feels goosebumps where the negligee's strip of white faux fur skims across the tops of his thighs. He finally looks up at Misha's face, and he can feel his mouth easing into a grin; Misha's jaw is practically on the floor, and his eyes are roving across Jensen's body like he wants to devour him. His pupils are so wide Jensen can barely see the blue of his irises.

"So, you, uh, like what you see?" Jensen asks. Misha manages the tiniest nod, still staring at Jensen like he wants to pounce but can't make himself move. Jensen grabs one of his hands and tugs him fully into the room, then pushes him gently up against the wall beside the doorway. "I think you'll like this even better." He sinks to his knees.

As he's undoing Misha's belt buckle, his hands skim over his crotch, and Jensen has to suppress a groan at how hard Misha is already. He unzips Misha's jeans and pulls him out of his underwear, but doesn't push the jeans down just yet, leaving the belt buckle hanging near enough above Misha's cock for the mistletoe joke. He glances back up to Misha's face; he looks afraid to blink, like the image in front of him will disappear if he reacts. "You okay up there, babe?" Jensen asks.

"Yeah, you're just... _fuck_ , you're perfect," Misha breathes, finally touching Jensen, his hands gently skimming through his hair and down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

Jensen chuckles, practically glowing with the affection. "And I'm not even sucking your dick yet."

Misha gazes down at him with an intensity that's almost too much, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth and his pupils blown wide. He's beautiful; Jensen wants to take him apart. He leans forward and fits his lips around Misha's flushed cock, teasing the tip with his tongue before swallowing him down further. Above him, he hears Misha's breath leave him in a rush, and the hands on his shoulders tighten instinctively as he takes as much of Misha into his mouth as he can get. He brings one hand up to curl around the back of Misha's thigh, his other hand working the rest of his smooth length in coordination with slow bobs of his head. He swirls his tongue and sucks hard on an upstroke, and Misha groans, loud and low. Jensen pulls off with a wet pop, his firm, unhurried grip smearing saliva and precome. "Feel good, baby?"

"Feels amazing, fucking love your mouth," Misha murmurs. Jensen swallows him back down quickly, picking up the pace, and Misha's head thuds gently back against the wall. He's got one hand in Jensen's hair and the other on the side of his face, gently guiding him up and down. Jensen rubs at Misha's balls where they're still tucked into his jeans, and Misha tries to spread his legs wider. He makes a frustrated noise when he finds his movement constricted, pressing back against Jensen's hand more firmly, and Jensen decides to take pity on him.

"Alright, I guess we can lose the mistletoe," he says, wiping the excess saliva from his mouth with the back of a hand. He shimmies Misha's jeans and underwear off his hips and down his legs, letting Misha use him for balance to kick the garments into a corner of the room. "Better?" he asks with a kiss to one of Misha's gorgeous thighs.

Misha gives his assent with a breathy "yeah," then Jensen is pulling him back in again with two hands on his ass. He swallows around Misha's hot girth, then relaxes his throat, fighting his gag reflex to take him in as deep as possible. Saliva is leaking out around his lips, and his scalp is tingling pleasantly where Misha has his fingers twisted in his hair.

Jensen moves a hand down to rub behind Misha's balls, and his hips jerk forward suddenly, causing Jensen to choke a little. "Sorry," they both murmur at the same time; Misha for thrusting in without warning and Jensen for his stupid gag reflex. Misha's told him before that it's not something he needs to apologize for, but Jensen wishes he was better at deep-throating. He blinks away the tears at the corners of his eyes and dives in again, moving more quickly now, but not as deep.

His hands wander across the firm planes of Misha's body, adoring how strong and solid the man is. He can feel Misha's abdominal muscles tensing under his hands and his breaths becoming more shallow and uneven. He pulls off until just the head of Misha's cock is still in his mouth, and he jacks him with long, swift strokes as he flicks at his slit with his tongue. Misha makes a sudden high moan that's almost a whine, and he curls into Jensen and grips him hard enough Jensen's sure he's about to come, but then he's pushing him off his cock. "Not yet," he rasps, gently smoothing Jensen's hair back from his forehead. His chest is heaving as he takes a few calming breaths. "If I don't get to fuck you in that thing, I might actually cry." Jensen beams up at him from where he's sitting back on his heels. "Bed?" Misha suggests, and he pulls Jensen to his feet and drags him into a kiss.

Jensen presses Misha against the wall, reveling in the way the lingerie moves over his skin and the way he can feel the heat of Misha's body through the thin material. He licks into Misha's mouth and drags his fingertips through his hair, and he feels Misha's contented hum rumble through both of their chests. Jensen's almost painfully hard; Misha has barely touched him yet, but there's so much sensation coming from every corner of his body he feels like his nerves are singing with it. His hips start moving without his permission, a slow grind seeking friction against Misha's thigh. Misha groans into Jensen's mouth. "Come on, babe, bed," he murmurs, pushing off the wall and backing Jensen up until he bumps the edge of the mattress.

Jensen turns and crawls onto the bed. He arches his back a little, putting himself on display, and peeks over his shoulder at Misha. His boyfriend's eyes are as wide as saucers and are practically glued to his ass, where his red, lacy boyshorts are peeking out under the edge of his negligee. Misha strokes himself a few times, his dick mouthwateringly hard and flushed dark red at the tip. He climbs onto the bed and crawls forward on his knees until his hands reach Jensen's hips. He pulls him back gently, aligning their hips, then makes a few agonizingly slow thrusts against his lace-covered backside. Jensen bites his lip against a moan. "Want you so bad, Mish."

Misha gives his hips a squeeze and backs up. "I know, gorgeous." His large palms skim across Jensen's ass cheeks, watching the stretch of the lace, then he pulls the panties down to mid-thigh. "Fuck," Misha murmurs. He spreads Jensen's cheeks and immediately drags his tongue across his hole.

Jensen lets out a loud whimper, fighting the simultaneous urges to squirm away and to push back against Misha's mouth as he licks over his hole, alternating shallow flicks and deeper thrusts of his tongue. If anyone had told Jensen twenty years ago how much he'd enjoy being rimmed, he would've kicked their ass, but right now he's digging his fingers into the bedsheets and spreading his legs as wide as they can go and trying not to fall apart. Misha's long, hot tongue spears him open and teases at his rim, and Jensen's knees shake with need.

Misha pauses his assault, leaning over Jensen's back to grab the lube from the nightstand, and he kisses his shoulder blade before moving back downwards. Jensen hears the cap click, smells the sweet, fake-watermelon scent of the flavored lube, but then Misha's tongue is on him again, and he's lost in the feeling.

He moans way too loudly and shoves his hips backwards, and it feels so good when Misha slides a finger in next to his tongue that Jensen has to squeeze the base of his cock to stop himself from losing it right then. Misha gives him a moment to breathe through it, then he's tugging against his rim and adding a second finger, scissoring him open wider to plunge his tongue in deep.

"Mish, _please_ , baby, need you inside me, come on," Jensen babbles. He buries his face in the sheets and wants and wants and wants, and then Misha pulls away from him, grabbing the lube from beside Jensen's knee so he can slick himself up. Jensen feels so empty, but he knows what's coming, and he sits still and waits as patiently as he can. _Finally_ , Misha's hand is back on his hip, and he feels the hot, blunt press of his cock against his hole. " _Fuck_ yeah," he groans when the head pops past his rim, followed by the blessed stretch of the entire length of him. He focuses on breathing steadily and keeping his muscles relaxed until Misha's hips are flush against his ass. He can hear Misha's breathing in tiny, barely-there moans as he gives Jensen a minute to fully adjust.

"So fucking perfect, love," Misha says, his hands flexing on Jensen's hips.

"Speak for yourself," Jensen chuckles breathlessly. He'll never get over this feeling of being so _full_ , of having Misha so close. He loves him so much it's scary sometimes.

"You good?" Misha asks. Jensen nods frantically, pushing his hips back into Misha before he can even start thrusting. Misha grips his hips tight, holding him still so he can pull halfway out and slam back in, and then it's off to the races. Misha fucks him hard and fast, punching the breath out of him with every thrust, and Jensen fucking _loves_ it. His forehead is pressed against the bed, and he stretches his arms above his head, bracing himself against the headboard to push back harder. Misha keeps one hand anchored to his hip, but his other hand traces over Jensen's back and bunches up the sheer fabric against his skin.

While Jensen knows he could do this forever and die happy, he also knows Misha's hips will get sore if they keep going in this position. Besides, there's one more thing he's fantasized about doing since he opened Vicki's Christmas gift. "Baby," Jensen gasps, reaching behind him to catch Misha's hand when his thrusts start to slow. Misha's hips come to a stop deep inside him, grinding in hard before Misha releases his grip on his side and slips free. Jensen twists around to pull Misha into a deep kiss. "Come here, wanna ride you," he murmurs against Misha's lips, gently pressing him into the bed and climbing on top, kicking his panties off one leg so he can straddle him properly.

He reaches behind himself and guides Misha's dick to his entrance. His breath leaves him in a rush as he lowers himself slowly, chasing that full feeling until he bottoms out. Misha stares up at him, his expression almost dazed with pleasure. Jensen plants his hands on Misha's chest and begins a dirty, languid grind of his hips, not much pushing in and out but a perfect amount of friction that feels incredible. Misha's teeth are digging into his bottom lip, and he's letting out these little gasping moans in time with Jensen's movements. He drags his hands up Jensen's sides to his chest, and he thumbs at his nipples through the fabric of the negligee. Jensen picks up the pace, starting to bounce a little on Misha's cock as Misha abuses his nipples, rolling and pinching them to stiff, tender peaks. He shifts a little, and then the angle is just right, Misha's cock nudging against his prostate. A soft little moan escapes his lips. " _Right fucking_ there."

Jensen can feel the faux fur hem of his negligee brushing against his leaking cock on every thrust, and he can feel the lace boyshorts still twisted around one knee, and the storm of sensations pushes him faster and faster until he's rising up almost all the way off Misha's dick before dropping heavily back down. "Fuck, I'm close," Jensen says, continuing to impale himself on Misha's cock. Misha's jaw is tense, and his moans almost sound like he's in pain, but his expression is all pleasure as pulls the lingerie aside to stroke Jensen in time with his thrusts.

Just when the heat in his belly has built to an unbearable level, he feels Misha's hips stutter beneath him, and the hand on his cock loses rhythm. "Fuck fuck _fuck_ ," Misha whines, whole body stiffening, and Jensen feels the pulse of hot come deep inside him.

"Jesus, fuck," Jensen gasps, driving his hips fast as he sprints towards his orgasm. Misha swipes his thumb in just the right way over the head of his cock, and it's all it takes to push him over the edge. He spurts his release over Misha's hand and chest, a few drops landing on the negligee. He clenches around Misha where he's still inside him, and Misha groans. They breathe heavy together as they come down, fingers entwined between their bodies. Finally, Jensen pushes gently up, and they both wince at the feeling of Misha's softening dick slipping free.

Jensen leans down to kiss Misha as he climbs off him, then he walks stiffly over to the bathroom to grab them a washcloth, underwear falling off his foot along the way. Misha hasn't moved a muscle when he gets back to the bed and begins gently cleaning him off. "Did I break you?" Jensen chuckles, swiping the warm cloth down his chest.

Misha smiles and points at the ceiling above his head. "Mistletoe. I just noticed."

Jensen grins up at the sprig of mistletoe he'd hung above the bed earlier that evening. He finishes cleaning himself off and drops the washcloth on the floor before climbing into bed with his boyfriend. "Merry Christmas, Mish. I love you."

Misha puts an arm around Jensen's shoulders, snuggling them close together with Jensen's head pillowed on Misha's chest. "I love you too," he says softly into Jensen's hair, then he presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Merry Christmas."


End file.
